


Hunger

by naturallymorbid



Series: Art in Boston [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boston, F/M, Nude Modeling, Nudity, Oral Sex, Sculpting, Sculpture, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, artist, nursing debt, nursing student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturallymorbid/pseuds/naturallymorbid
Summary: You're a nurse trying to work your way through both your massive student debt and the everyday living expenses of Boston. Desperate for cash, you take a job as a model for a late-night sculpting workshop, and initially doesn’t question why the workshop organizer keeps paying you more than agreed. Or keeps insisting on ordering delivery so you go home with food. Or keeps making sure you get the job even though several other people are trying for it. Initially, you don't question anything; when you finally do, how will you handle this attention? Is it adorable or terrifying?
Relationships: Ben Solo & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo/Reader
Series: Art in Boston [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624804
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Night One

Hunger

_Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free  
The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me  
Don't let it get you down, you're the best thing I've seen  
We never found the answer but we knew one thing  
We all have a hunger…_

_\- Florence and the Machine_

_Reader x Ben Solo / Kylo Ren_

You throw your dirty scrubs into your overflowing laundry basket and jump into the steaming shower. There is just enough time for you to get cleaned up and head over to the late-night sculpting workshop.

When you worked your way through school, you thought your dream of becoming a nurse would pay off. Instead, your daily expenses and massive student debts tend to cripple your bank account. Boston is such an expensive city.

Recently, you had found an advertisement for the sculpting workshop, with the promise that it would put extra money in your pocket.

When you had spoken to the organizer, you had not gotten much of an impression other than he was very business-like. His deep voice was at the very least soothing as he told you that you had the first gig.

You didn’t want to be late your first night. How rich would that be, if a bunch of people showed up to sculpt and the subject wasn’t there.

As you dash out of your apartment, you realize that you have no clue if this is a regular sculpting session or a nude one.

Contemplating your rent on the T, as it zips around the city, you decide that it doesn’t matter as long as they pay you.

Nudity wasn’t anything new to you. As a nurse, you saw compromising parts all the time. No need to be shy.

Then why was your breath catching as you stopped outside of a very respectable studio?

You push open one of the glass doors into a brightly lit hallway. Not as sketchy as you were picturing. There are several different doorways and a flight of open steel stairs.

You see the name of the studio in big letters behind a check-in desk. Various artworks line the clean hallway. Some are sculptures and others are paintings. A triptych of galaxies catches your eye and you are mesmerized.

All of the directions, the manager’s name, everything vital slips from your mind as you inspect the artwork.

“Y/N?” the deep voice from the phone intones. A large man appears at the top of the stairs.

“Yes,” you answer, shakily.

From his voice, you had wondered if he was older or something.

“I’m Ben Solo, the organizer. We spoke on the phone. Looked at the pictures you sent.”

He’s huge, you realize, as he begins descending the stairs. And beautiful.

Dark, curling hair frames an open, friendly face. Dark eyes scan you from head to toe, appraising, but not like the skeevy guys at the bar. Searching your form, imagining you as clay, you suppose.

He’s dressed simply enough in blue jeans, splattered with paint and an oversized black shirt.

You notice his giant hand sliding down the railing and fight the urge to laugh – the bigger the hands…the bigger his…

“I’m so glad you agreed to do this for us. Our last model wasn’t complete for the job.”

You’re jolted out of your haze. “Complete for the job?”

“He lost an arm during class.”

Your eyes widen and Ben reaches out a hand to reassure you. He clasps your hand, encompassing your own with his large warm one. He gives your hand a firm, quick shake.

“A joke,” he coughs.

“Got it,” you laugh. You need to lighten up. If he was going to do something to do, wouldn’t he have done it by now.

He smiles, full kissable lips part to reveal nice teeth. Up close, you see his face is scattered with beauty marks.

“Well, y/n, lets get you upstairs for an evening of sitting completely still.”

His other hand, which has been tucked away in his jeans pocket, comes now to rest on your lower back as he guides you up the stairs.

You can hear soft music and the sounds of conversation. At least there are other people around.

“You said you’re a nurse?” he asks, making polite conversation as you trek up the stairs. You like stairs at the hospital, because it is too easy to get stuck in an elevator on a code.

“Yes, at Mass General.”

“Must make for interesting stories.”

“Every day is a new adventure. If someone isn’t putting an object where it shouldn’t go, they’re injecting something they shouldn’t, driving like they shouldn’t, you know.”

He directs you into a large studio room where lots of people are chatting and drinking wine. In the center of the room is a robe and a chair.

There are little stations arranged in a circle with clay ready to be shaped.

“Everyone, this is y/n. She’s agreed to be our model for our spring sessions. Be nice, we want her to come back.”

Different people come up and greet you, men and women of all shapes and sizes. Someone presses a cold glass of wine in your hand.

“Alright, enough talk. Let’s get our hands dirty,” Ben announces after a few minutes.

“Do I have…am I?” you ask, awkwardly gesturing towards the robe and the chair.

“You mean, do you have to be nude? No. Just undergarments are fine.”

You blush, because its obvious they didn’t want to sculpt you with your clothes.

Ben notices your blush and chuckles.

“First time posing?”

You nod. You had changed in locker rooms at work, in college, the gym. But that wasn’t the same thing as sitting in a room full of strangers as they artistically interpreted your body. Their gazes on you.

A handsome stranger’s gaze on you.

Ben touches your shoulder and directs you to a partitioned changing area.

“Don’t worry. This is just for art. Go change over there and I’ll bring you this robe. Then I’ll pose you.”

You nod again, swallowing the lump in your throat. He had quoted you about $100 for sitting tonight. That would go a long way to help with your day to day expenses.

You duck behind the partition and begin slipping out of your clothes. You’re glad you went with one of your nicer bra and panty sets tonight – all satin and lace. You really shouldn’t have anything to be ashamed of with your body. You have a great natural figure which you keep up with exercise and a semi-healthy diet.

“Here,” Ben tells you as he hands the robe over the partition.

The silky fabric glides over your bare shoulders.

As you step around the partition, Ben takes your hand and leads you over to the chair. Around you, the artists are working with their clay in preparation.

Ben sits you down in the basic chair, his big hands gentle on your shoulders.

“Trust me,” he whispers in your ear, tickling the shell.

You nod once, holding your breath, as Ben slips the robe down your shoulders, exposing your neck and upper chest. He takes your right hand and curls it into a fist, propping it up under your chin as if you are deep in contemplation.

“A good start tonight,” he tells you. Up close, his eyes are full of warm color, with little specks of metallics mixed in.

You release your breath and try to relax. After a few minutes of observing the different artists looking between you and their clay, you decide this isn’t too bad.

You feel Ben’s eyes on you as he moves around the room, making suggestions to his students.

It’s fun watching the different lumps become human.

“Thirsty?” Ben asks, appearing at your side.

“Yes.” He’s brought you a water bottle with a straw so that you don’t have to move. You sip delicately, refreshed.

Before you know it, artists are covering their creations for the night.

You sit up, your neck and back protesting from holding the pose.

“I will see you on Thursday night,” Ben tells his class as they begin their preparations – gathering scarves and coats – to disappear into the night.

“Thank you,” Ben addresses you.

“Sure thing.” You roll your neck.

“Allow me?” Ben asks, holding out his hands.

“Mm?”

He begins massaging your neck and upper back, his thumbs making small circles in your tense muscles.

You bite your lip to keep from moaning. This feels heavenly after sitting still so long.

“Better?” he asks once you are nearly a pile of goop.

“Mmm, much. Thank you.”

“Go ahead and change. I’ll have your payment in a moment.”

With a sudden reluctance, you slip back into your jeans and sweater.

When you emerge, Ben is cleaning up the remains of the wine glasses, cheese, and crackers.

“Need any help?” Your mother had said good manners were free.

“Hm? No, I’ve got it,” Ben tells you.

You shake your head and jump in to help him anyway. Most of the things are disposable.

“You don’t have anything better to do with your night?” Ben asks.

“Not really. Besides, good manners cost nothing.”

Ben starts to protest but thinks better of it as you help him clear away the last of the mess.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to,” he tells you as he pulls out his wallet.

“It’s the right thing to do,” you shrug.

He peels off some twenties, pressing them into your hand.

“Not so bad for your first time, huh?” He’s smirking.

“Yeah, not what I was thinking.” It was almost…fun. Your self confidence is taking a major boost.

“Good. So, Thursday?”

“You got it.” He walks you back down the stairs to the front of the now empty gallery.

“How are you getting home?” he questions, once you two have made it to the front door. You see a few of the other artists hanging around smoking and chatting outside.

“Same way I got here, the train.”

“This time of night? It’s like, midnight. At least let me drive you to the station, if not home.”

You tense. While he has been nice so far, the thought of him driving you home tonight is a little much. On the other hand, catching the train from an unfamiliar area also fills your stomach with dread. You’ve toughed up in the months you’ve lived in the city and working different shifts.

“Okay, how about to the station and I’ll text that I made it home?”

“You won’t let me drive you home?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. You have yourself a deal. Give me a few minutes to lock this place up.”

You stand at the door, watching the other artists leave as the lights go off around you. Soon enough, Ben is back by your side.

He opens the passenger door for you on a slick, black car. Even though he’s been nothing but polite the entire night, you still keep your hand on the door lock, should you need to escape.

Rock music plays in the background as he drives you to the train station.

“So you own the studio?” you ask. You can’t recall the name of it off the top of your head. First something…

“Yeah. Well, I have a business partner. Armitage Hux. I spend most of my time there though.”

“Did you always want to be an artist?”

“No, I spent a lot of my formative years wanting to be a dinosaur or a ninja, or a dinosaur ninja.”

“I’m gonna assume that dream didn’t work out,” you laugh.

He chuckles. “Still waiting. Actually, art was something my therapist recommended for me when I got out of the military.”

“Thank you for your service,” you say, just in time to see him nod. A tense look crosses his face before he continues.

“And it seems that art is my calling. What about you? Why nursing?”

“I’ve always wanted to help people remove weird items from their butts,” you joke. Ben gives you a look. “Actually, my mother was a nurse and I wanted to be just like her.”

“Oh yeah? With the whole removing…?”

“No. Well, I don’t know about that exactly…anyway. My mother died before she could see me finish nursing school. She had breast cancer. All her nurses were great. I wanted to give back.”

It’s impossible to ignore the lump in your throat. You still call up her voicemail just to hear her voice, so that you never forget. You still want for her to pick up, so that you can tell her about your day…

“I’m sorry,” Ben tells you. You nod.

You and Ben are silent for a moment or two.

“Sorry,” you apologize, out of habit.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Ben tells you.

The train station is before you now.

“Text me and let me know,” Ben tells you before you get out of the car.

“I will,” you promise.

Your train ride is short and quiet back to your apartment.

Once inside, you text Ben and let him know you’re home safe. The wad of cash feels like a weight in your front pocket. You count it out for a deposit the next day.

$160.

You text Ben.

_Hey, I gotta give you 60 of this back._

Your phone chirps a few seconds later. _No. Consider it extra for helping me clean._

You smile and prepare for bed. He wouldn’t take the money back, no matter what you did. He’s that kind of guy.


	2. Chapter 2

Hunger

_Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free  
The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me  
Don't let it get you down, you're the best thing I've seen  
We never found the answer but we knew one thing  
We all have a hunger…_

_\- Florence and the Machine_

_Reader x Ben Solo / Kylo Ren_

Chapter 2

Your next shifts pass in a blur of directions and going home to sleep. It must be a full moon on the horizon, you muse, as you shower and change for the sculpture class tonight. You had been so busy at the hospital.

You weren’t in as big a hurry this time for the studio and took a little more care with your appearance, brushing out your hair and putting on a little makeup.

You were also sure to wear another cute set of underwear, since you knew the deal now.

Tomorrow was your day off and you were looking forward to getting a chance to clean up your apartment and just relax. Maybe you would even have time to catch up on one of your favorite shows or something.

The train ride was uneventful and your walk to the studio was chilly but quiet. Tonight, you noticed some of the students arriving ahead of you. Some of the ladies greet you warmly as you all pile into the studio. They’re all middle age to elderly, like your ma or grandma. They’re the only ones who have time right now, you think.

“Come up!” Ben shouts from the top of the stairs. You hear loud rock music, which gradually lowers in volume as you climb the stairs.

He greets the women by clasping both hands and kissing them on the cheeks. He knows each name and asks something about the rest of their week. You find yourself smiling.

“Y/n,” he smiles, when it is your turn. He greets you the same way, though he seems to linger just a second or two longer. Surreptitiously, you inhale his rich scent of pine and sandalwood.

“Ben,” you say.

“How’s the hospital?” he asks, leading you over to the refreshment table. You select a few pieces of fruit and cheese with a glass of red wine.

“Crazy,” you laugh. “People really out did themselves the last few days.”

“Oh yeah? Removing things from delicate places?” he smirks.

“That and more. How about your week?” you ask, not wanting all the attention to be on you.

“It’s been good. Sold some art, arranged some shows.”

One of the older women joins you and asks, “When are you going to release more of your art Ben?” She nudges him with her elbow.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. You think that you see the same dark look from the car the other night. “I’ve been busy.”

“Have you seen his art?” the woman asks you.

“Not much,” you confess. You had looked at a few initial pieces when you found the advertisement, just to be sure that he was real.

“You’ve got to see his art. Both as Ben and Kylo,” she tells you. She takes your arm to lead you towards the stairs, but more artists are coming in now.

“Another time then,” she shrugs. You have to say that you’re a little grateful, because you wanted to enjoy your wine and cheese a moment before you’re sitting still most of the night.

Instead of being the center of attention, you sit back and watch Ben interact with the different artists. You had been late and nervous the last time.

Ben smiles and interacts with everyone, giving them the same attention. However, his gaze flickers to you in between. You think it could just be the wine settling in your stomach, but you feel a little flutter every time he does.

“Are you ready?” he asks, once he’s made his way back to you. He’s looking down, studying your face. You get the feeling that he’s once again sizing you up for something, but you don’t know what.

“Sure.” Once again, he hands you the robe and leads you to the partitioned area. It doesn’t take you nearly as long to remove your clothes and don the robe.

“Same pose,” Ben tells you, helping you into the chair, removing the robe, and posing your arm. Briefly, his calloused hands make contact with your skin as he poses you. You think you may have imagined it, but his touch, his gaze seems to linger on you just longer than necessary.

But you are only half dressed and surrounded by people, so your senses are more aware.

“Perfect,” Ben whispers as he leaves you to start with his students.

Tonight, he takes more time, moving from person to person and making specific suggestions. You understand the basis of them, not the jargon necessarily, but the idea.

Within the lumps of clay, you are beginning to see your form, the beginnings of your curves. It’s a little surreal. A few days ago, the clay was shapeless, unremarkable. Now though…

The wine must have been a little stronger than you thought; you’re only philosophical when you’re a little tipsy.

“Take a break,” Ben tells you, in between critiques. “Sit up, have something to drink.”

“Thanks.” You stretch luxuriously, feeling your bra and panties rise with the movement. Out of the corner of your eye, Ben is watching the movement and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

You take a sip from the water bottle he brought over earlier, with the straw, same as a few days before. The water is delicious to your parched mouth.

Quietly, Ben helps you back into the pose before he moves on again. This is more relaxing than you had originally thought. There was no rushing around seeing about needs, no one barking orders at you. You could just sit and watch, contemplate.

But the class was ending. Ben’s students began covering up their sculptures again. You excused yourself to re-dress.

“Hey,” Ben asked beside the partition.

You shivered, not expecting him. “Yeah.”

“I’ve ordered some takeout, because wine and cheese aren’t a meal,” Ben says. “Best pizza in Boston from right down the street. You hungry?”

On cue, your stomach rumbled. “Yeah, starving.”

It wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something more to soak up the remainder of the wine. You were a little bit of a lightweight; always had been.

“Great. I’ll finish closing up.”

You hurriedly put on the rest of your clothes and went about cleaning up the remnants of the food. You could hear Ben wishing everyone a goodnight downstairs. There wasn’t much left for you to put away.

“Hey, you didn’t have to do it by yourself,” Ben tells you, appearing at the top of the stairs with a pizza box.

“I already told you, I don’t mind.”

“Come on, come eat,” Ben says, setting the box down and opening it up. You could smell the heady scent of pepperoni and cheese, see the grease glistening. Your stomach bucked again, hungry for something more than the snack you had eaten earlier.

“Okay.” He handed you a slice on one of the little clear plastic plates.

When you bit into it, you had to admit it was pretty good. You moaned and twisted a little to show your pleasure.

“Good, huh?” he asks, already having devoured half of one slice.

“God yes,” you tell him. The two of you eat in companionable silence. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until now. 

You glanced at your phone to see that it was after midnight. You felt a little dread at having to get the train this time of night.

“Everything okay?” he asks, noticing your look of concern.

“I just didn’t realize that it was so late,” you admit.

“I’ll drive you home,” Ben says.

“No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not. Please, I insist. I wouldn’t feel right about you taking the train this time of night. Especially since I’m sending the leftovers home with you.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, although it would be easy to put them up for work the day after next. Now that you’ve eaten, you’re starting to get tired and you don’t want to argue with him anymore. Besides, if he was going to do something, wouldn’t he have tried it by now? You’ve been there over an hour alone with him. 

“Nonsense. Come on, let’s get you home.” He packed up the remainders of the pizza and gave them to you, along with your money.

Ben walked you to the front of the studio, shut out the lights, and the two of you walked to his car.

You gave him your address so that he could plug it into his GPS.

“I know this area,” he tells you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Been over that way a few times.” Soft rock music is playing in the background. All you want to do is close your eyes. God, its been a long day.

He drops you off in front of your apartment building.

“Now, you text me when you get home,” you grin at him.

“You got it boss,” he tells you, smirking.

After you’ve changed into your pajamas, you hear your phone chirp. You had been counting out your cash for deposit. $160 again. And pizza.

Ben: _Made it home safe_

You: _Good._

Ben: _Goodnight_

You: _Goodnight_

You closed your eyes and were out like a light.


End file.
